The rainwater drips through the cracks in the ceiling
by poisonousforyoureyes
Summary: No one is there to stop Peeta when he tries to strangle Katniss. Major character death. (Written from Prompts in Panem - Day 7 : What if ?)


**This story was written for the Everlark AU Week Challenge on Prompts in Panem Tumblr page. **

**Please be aware that English is not my native language, and therefore incorrections and misuses of words can be found in this story. I really tried to keep mistakes to a minimum, but a few might have slipped from my watch.**

**Thank you for reading this hugely depressing piece.**

* * *

Haymitch did not want anyone in the room where Peeta and Katniss would see each other for the first time since the Quell ended. Later though, he would wonder, over and over, why he wanted them to be alone so badly. It just had seemed the logical thing to do. So logical that he had not for a second considered the possibility that Peeta might have suffered more than physcially in the hands of the Capitol scientists. Why he had not figured that, with their sophisticated devices and their advanced technology, they could have altered Peeta's very mind, was beyond him. He had assumed the boy's personality had stayed the same. Cause it had to be that way.

And maybe at that time it had seemed the least he could do for the two young adults he had grown to care for. They had stood in front of him, once, it seemed like a hundred years ago, and they would not be ignored. They would not let him be a mere witness of their deaths. With the same stubbornness, they had found their way into his life. Letting them reunite without anyone watching them was giving them privacy, something they so very needed. Haymitch was not one to beg for forgiveness, no more than he was unwilling to admit it whenever he screwed up. He had screwed up big time. He didn't believe this was some kind of noble, magnanimous gesture that would make everything right again (but had things ever been right?). It was merely a peace offering. The girl would be able to react to seeing Peeta again the way she wanted. Heck, she could even burst into tears and kiss the boy breathless without some shallow Capitol citizen swooning over it (though knowing her, that kind of reaction was highly unlikely). But the point was that they could be themselves, for once.

His decision has been frowned upon by the soldiers from Thirteen that were involved in the whole business. Boggs especially had raised his eyebrows without actually saying anything, which was possibly the most irritating way for someone to express his doubts concerning another's decision. Haymitch did not care. That stern, earnest practicality was typical Thirteen fashion. They hardly even bothered with gestures and peace offerings and making amends if such things were to come against their beloved rules. Unexpectedly, Coin had backed him up, giving her consent and efficiently shutting her devoted minions up.

But then again, he could have remembered Coin had never been fond of Katniss.

Nevertheless, no matter who said what or who agreed with whom, the situation remained the same: Katniss Everdeen was alone when she entered Peeta's Mellark room. Haymitch watched her as she stood at the doorway, her cheeks somewhat flushed from anticipation, a tentative smile on her lips, a sincere relief in her eyes, until she came into the room and disappeared from his view.

She never came out.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were all staring at the now empty doorway. Absolutely nothing could be heard inside. One of the soldiers made an offhand joke about how wise a decision indeed it had been to let the two be alone, but Haymitch was having none of it. Something was wrong. The same thought must have occurred to Boggs, for the two of them rushed inside at the same time.

Something was indeed very wrong.

Peeta was huddled up in one corner, his hands covering his ears, muttering to himself, as far away as he could from Katniss. The girl was lying on her back under the harsh light of the room, completely still. Her rigid arms were outstretched in an unnatural position, as if she had been reaching for someone. Her grey eyes were much paler than usual. They looked almost white as she stared, unblinking, as something she could not see anymore.

On her neck were reddened prints of hands.

Boggs slowly crossed the room and kneeled next to her. He gently pressed his fingers on her neck. Then, he turned to Haymitch and shook his head.

The room was so quiet they could hear water drops falling on the floor with a smooth regularity. There was probably a leaky pipe somewhere in the walls. Peeta was now staring at the dark humidity stain on the ceiling while whispering endlessly about clocks. Plik plok. Tick Tock. Sparkles and feathers and claws and deep in the meadow a mockingjay falls silent while a hunter sings about a girl whose braid is on fire.

The boy had absolutely no idea of what happened. Of what he just did.

Haymitch almost wished it were the same for him.

* * *

A few days later, after having kept a close watch on Peeta, who was now locked in his room, the scientists from Thirteen were finally able to come up with an explanation. They seemed rather proud of themselves, uttering words like "hijacking" and "brainwash" and "homicidal maniacal tendencies" and, above all, "episodes", which they kept repeating as if it were some kind of magic words. They sounded clever, but in reality they were absolutely devoid of meaning.

To Mrs. Everdeen, it only meant she had failed to protect her daughter. Again.

To Prim, it only meant her sister could not possibly come back. This time.

To Gale, it only meant he would forever be the man at the Hanging Tree. And waiting for his almost love that had failed to flee was far worse than just waiting for an answer.

To Haymitch, it only meant he should have known better.

To Finnick, it only meant they were lying when they said there were twenty-three deaths in the annual Games. There were twenty-four. One of them just happened to be longer and more painful than the others.

To Coin, it only meant she could dispose of the Mockingjay the way she wanted, for it would never be able to flap its wings again.

To Peeta, nothing really meant anything.

* * *

It seemed at first that the Rebellion would never recover from such an atrocity.

But you could always count on Plutarch Heavensbee to turn things around.

It only took a week before they were able to broadcast nationwide – including in the Capitol – a series of propos entitled "True love never burns out" in which Plutarch and Fluvia had used old footages from Katniss and Peeta's first Games and the Quell. They showed the beloved "star crossed lovers" kissing and fighting side by side and kissing and holding hands and kissing and making speeches and kissing… In the background, an overwhelmed voice commented on how those two were doomed from the start and how unfair it was, and could we really let the Capitol get away with it? The greatest, purest (well, not so much, as Katniss's fake pregnancy led to think, but the Districts would get the idea) love had been altered, soiled, destroyed by the Capitol. Did we really want to sit around while the star crossed lovers had been torn apart forever? Did we really want to let Katniss Everdeen, the Girl who used to be on Fire, our Mockingjay, die out? Did we really want to let her death go unavenged?

A tragic love story. Every single inhabitant of Panem, everyone in the Districts could relate with that.

There was also the interesting fact that no one really knew the real circumstances of Katniss's death. The few people in the know had sworn the knowledge of her dying from Peeta Mellark's hands - literally - to secrecy. Officially, she had died from repercussions of her fight in Eight – some concussion no one had seen coming. She had collapsed into Peeta's arms right after they reunited in his hospital room. He had been unable to save her and had found himself unable to appear in public ever since.

"That way no one will notice the state the boy's in. Even for someone who has suffered from a terrible loss, he's not quite right anymore" had said Fluvia, gesturing towards her head in a way that showed clearly what she meant by "not quite right".

The first day the propos had been broadcasted, Haymitch had discovered two shallow refugees from Four swooning over an image of Katniss kissing Peeta into eating the soup he had sent them in their little cave of safety.

He had tried very hard not to think about the irony of it.

It turned out a dead Katniss was the best weapon the Rebellion could ever had dreamed of. She was an icon. A martyr. See what they have done to her? You can and will not let that go unpunished. You want to be as brave as she was the day she stepped on stage to save her little sister. No to mention all she has achieved since. Now she's dead. But you're not.

Her funeral was filmed and recorded for posterity. It happened overground in Thirteen, and there were flowers and big speeches and tears. Coin publicly spoke of the great admiration she held for the girl and how she was a role model for everyone in the war.

"If you ever find yourself unsure of what to do next, just try to think of what would Katniss have done, and I'm convinced your path will enlighten by itself."

Gale wished so hard Katniss were able to hear this it hurt. Though it was no real change from what he had felt since the day she died. The objectives avoided him in spite of his "camera-ready face", as this handsome man with his burning eyes and obvious pain did not really seem like a "cousin" at that moment.

"It's unfortunate we weren't able to bring Peeta", Plutarch would say later. "It would have made great footage. But I suppose it's best if no one sees him right now."

Later that night, after everything was over, a small group of people gathered in the launching room of Thirteen and quietly stepped into of the hovercrafts. It flew to a green, deep forest near a destroyed, ashes-covered district. Between the trees they all stood: Mrs. Everdeen, Prim, Haymitch, Gale and his family, Katniss's prep team, Finnick, Annie, Johanna, Beetee and Boggs. Nobody said anything because nothing really needed to be said. Katniss would have liked this wordless tribute to what she had been, in one of the places she had loved the most. Gale shot an arrow in the trunk of a cypress. It had been her favorite hunting spot.

"It's a shame we weren't able to bring Peeta", whispered Prim as they left. "He too would have wanted to say his goodbyes. He will regret not have been there later."

* * *

Peeta was unreachable. And kept under close watch, which was why they would not have been able to take him to Katniss's real funeral even if they had tried to.

Prim had mildly asked to be assigned to his case as a medical trainee. Her request had aroused all kind of reactions, from incomprehension to hostility among her peers. Mrs. Everdeen had merely required for Peeta to be strapped to his bed, in case he had a violent episode in the direction of her youngest and now only daughter. But Gale had harshly asked her what the hell she was thinking.

"Don't you know that he killed her?"

Prim slowly looked up from the dictionary of medical terms she was studying and calmly but firmly answered:

"He did not. It's not him who came back from the Capitol, and you know it."

She stood up and walked to the door. When she reached it, she turned back to Gale and added:

"And when he does, and realize what happened, I don't want him to be alone."

* * *

But, as she sat by Peeta's side, Prim found herself doubting such thing would ever happen.

Contrary to what could be expected, suppressing whom he thought was responsible for all his troubles had not eased the chaos that reigned in Peeta's mind. If anything, it had made it worse. Prim guessed it was because he had not been aware of what he was doing, and he had no memory of it. Katniss, however corrupted and twisted she must appear to him, was still the only thing that was in his mind. It was therefore logic that he should keep expecting her to show up. As she didn't, obviously, his confusion grew greater.

"Where is she?" he asked her. "Why won't she come? You must stay away from her, Primrose. I know it's hard to hear for you, but she's evil."

Prim usually let these kinds of statements go unanswered. Peeta would respond to her silence by staring intensely at the door.

"Evil, murderous, drenched in blood. She's somewhere. She's gonna come through that door. Where is she? She's gonna come back for me."

And Prim couldn't help noticing he sounded almost hopeful, rather than afraid.

* * *

The war went on. Gale melted into some sort of murderous fog, as if all the blood in the world were not enough to make up for Katniss's death. Mrs. Everdeen worked herself to exhaustion most of the time, as if all the lives she would save were not enough to make up for the one she didn't. Prim found herself pretty much alone. Or she would have been, if it weren't for Rory Hawthorne's steady and comforting presence. And Peeta's.

His true self was slowly coming back to the surface. The homicidal maniac became an apparition rather than a constant presence. He was able to maintain a real conversation without falling back into his whisperings. As she was usually the first and last face he saw during the day, they talked a lot.

Of course, the first thing he did while returning to normal was ask about Katniss. In a coherent way. His eyes growing softer and hopeful. That's how Prim knew the healing process had started.

They asked her to lie.

"She's dead, Peeta. She fought with the Rebels in Eight and she got hurt. But no one was able to see how bad it was in time."

She hesitated before adding:

"So she died in your arms right after you were rescued from the Capitol."

She was thrown out of the room as Peeta grieved by collapsing into one of the worst episodes he would ever have.

* * *

"How can we lie to him like that?" Prim hissed to Haymitch.

It was amazing how her scowling made her look like her sister, he mused.

"Well, that's the official version, _sweetheart_." The nickname felt like acid as it slipped off his tongue and he made the mental note to never use it again.

"How about simply telling him the truth?" she asked, crossing her arms. "He deserves it."

"Sure he does. But you can't say it would do him any good right now. Or ever."

He had a point.

"No, I guess it wouldn't", she said softly.

* * *

They watched as the pathetic mass of children gathered in front of Snow's mansion literally burst into flames. Somehow, the whole thing was being recorded and sent to their screens in Thirteen.

"Gale and Beetee sure know what they're doing", Peeta merely commented.

"How awful." Prim murmured. "I wished I was there. I could have helped. I'm useless here."

Peeta was glad she wasn't, however. She would never have made it out alive.

* * *

The day of Snow's execution, Gale came to see Peeta.

They sat side by side, and for a long time, neither of them said anything. Finally, Gale spoke:

"It would have been you. It's been you all along."

"You don't know that." Peeta didn't need to ask what he was talking about.

"I do. I have no idea why it seems so obvious now. Maybe because she's gone, I can see… you and her… it would have ended that way eventually."

"Does it really matter now?" Peeta asked in a strained voice.

"I'm just glad I got my answer, even though I will never hear it from her."

Gale looked like life had been drained out of him, and Peeta had nothing to respond to what he had just said. That happened a lot lately.

* * *

Coin made them vote for another edition of the Hunger Games. The remaining Victors were all in the same room, and they had to say whether or not they liked the idea of killing more children. Peeta tried to wrap his mind around the fact that, after having won the War, after having defeated the Capitol, the Games still lingered around. It would have been hard even if his mind were still intact.

This was not what Katniss had died for. Even if the circumstances of it were still blurry (he tried so hard to remember).

The majority had voted against it (Annie, Beetee, Haymitch and himself), so those Games wouldn't take place. But Peeta had caught on Coin's face a look of sheer displeasure at the rejection of her brilliant idea. He wondered what else she'd come up with now that she had the entire country in her hands.

He tried to focus. He had to do something.

Which was how he found himself rising from his seat. He found himself addressing the entire population who had come to watch Snow's execution. He sensed the old Peeta rising in him. That guy didn't have any trouble making speeches and manipulating words. He would know better how to do this, so the current Peeta let him talk, feeling it would be the last time he would ever show up.

Loud and clear, Peeta wondered aloud if Alma Coin's position as the new president of Panem was entirely legitimate. Who had decided to put her there? He certainly didn't. It wasn't that she would not make a good leader, because, really, all it took was to look at the way Thirteen had survived all those years to know she was more than capable enough. But what if someone were even more suited for this role? What if Panem deprived itself of a great president because no one had taken time to decide who he wanted that person to be? Wasn't this whole democracy thing about people deciding for themselves?

"I think about Katniss every day", he went on, "and I know she didn't fight for you to fall back into apathy once the War is over. It's not enough that we destroyed. We have to built back now."

Coin should have known she wasn't the only one capable of manipulation. And besides, Peeta hadn't lied on the last point. Katniss would have definitely done something to stop Coin. Only he had the feeling she'd have come up with something a lot more radical.

* * *

Days and months and years pass before the day Prim foreshadowed comes.

Peeta wanders about the Meadow. Haymitch sits somewhere behind him, and drinks, as he often does. They have fallen into that wordless understanding that has developed between them over years of silence. Neither of them wants to acknowledge the fact that there should be someone else with them. Someone else whose absence is so striking it almost becomes physically tangible. Though they don't talk of it, they're always thinking of it.

It suddenly occurs to Peeta that he is walking on his father's grave. And mother. And brothers. And something about this abrupt and morbid realization brings another one into his mind almost instantly.

Peeta doesn't know what could have been. How could he?

He has no way of knowing that, on this very day, had things turned out differently, he could be watching his children running around, the girl dancing among the dandelions and the boy trying to keep up with her.

He has no way of knowing that, had someone been with them as they saw each other from the last time, this time wouldn't have been the last, and Katniss Everdeen would be standing at his side right now.

He has no way of knowing they'd both be broken beyond repair, but somehow would still manage to be happy, and their children would grow up in a world very similar to the one she once sang about to a dying girl. All it would have taken was for someone to have been there in time to tear his hand off her neck.

He has no way of knowing all this, and I think we can safely assume it's better that way.

However, there is something else he does know.

Slowly, he turns to Haymitch.

"It was me, wasn't it? I did it."

Haymitch doesn't say anything, though Peeta can tell he knows very well what he's talking about. His voice grows colder.

"I killed Katniss Everdeen, real or not real?"


End file.
